Checkmate
by Dakota Pratt
Summary: When Cassie is framed and found guilty for the murder of Jacob Berenson, she finds a friend in the most unlikely person. Now, she and Marco are on the run from the government, the public, and the ultimate evil. Chapter 4 coming soon!
1. Victims of Circumstance

Checkmate

**by Dakota Pratt**

_A/N: Wow, I've been away for a while. The first three-quarters or so of THE BEGINNING have taken place prior to the start of this fic. The rest is AU, and you're on your own. Enjoy. - D_

**CHAPTER ONE: Victims of Circumstance**

I had to talk to him. Before I went completely, certifiably stark-raving insane. I needed to understand what, exactly had happened between us. A week before the war with the Yeerks had ended, Jake and I had been talking about getting engaged. Here we were almost three years later and we only talked when Marco made us.

Rachel was dead, Tobias had been AWOL since the funeral, and Ax was off on some deep-space mission after having been promoted to Andalite War-Prince. We'd all been best friends during the war, and now that it was over, Jake and I only rarely associated with each other mostly because we felt like we had to. I knew that Rachel's death had torn him apart inside. I understood that. But Rachel was my best friend in the entire universe and when I was grieving, when I needed someone to turn to, Jake was not there for me.

That was when I met Ronnie, and our lives just seemed to fork off in a different direction. I'd tried to patch things up with Jake, but once he abandoned me I wasn't willing to try anymore.

Marco and I still hung out, at least; we saw each other several times a month. His new book, The Gorilla Speaks, had just come out and was a best-seller on the New-York Times, outranking me by two slots. Not that I'm competitive or anything.

And now? Ronnie and I had broken up the week before, but that didn't explain my intense desire to make things right with Jake. It was tearing me apart inside and had been for almost a month, some unexplainably pull, some unseen force was urging me to see him. I couldn't resist it anymore.

So that's why I was flying through the air at nine-thirty at night in owl morph, circling over Main Street as Jake walked out of the movie theater and turned the block to get to his car. It was a rare thing for him not to have a waiting limo and an entourage of bodyguards with him, and for that I was grateful. My mind was circling in one of those 'do I talk to him, do I not' spells, debating whether or not I should do it and if I did, how I would do it, and all that. I hated arguing with myself, I was too damned stubborn to win.

Finally I bit the bullet and called down to him in private thought-speak. Jake?

He stopped walking and looked around suddenly, head jerking in every direction as his hair fell down in front of his eyes. Even from my position in the sky, I could count the number of hairs on his head, the number of times he blinked in confusion. The sun had long past set but to my owl eyes it was bright as day.

I saw him mouth, 'Cassie?'

Above you. I'm going to come down, all right?

He nodded, and I began my descent on my soft, silent wings. I loved flying, even now with all the horror and tragedy and pain of the war behind me, I think it was worth it all just to have the opportunity to have wings. A small part of me understood exactly how Tobias had felt that first night. The choice between human and bird, between being grounded and being free. Wasn't really a choice at all, especially with a life like his.

There was movement in the shadows, and even with my keen eyes I couldn't make out the figure exactly. It shifted and blurred in the corner of my vision, almost like it was changing shape as it moved. I didn't even have time to question it. I'd learned a long time ago that when in doubt, you're in danger.

Jake, look out! I barreled down as fast as I could, pointing my tail straight out and adjusting the feathers on my body to give me all the speed I could get.

The form took on a shape, a dark-skinned woman across the street moving with a grace that was inhuman, skulking through the alley as if she was a part of it. There was something dark and metallic in her hand, and as she raised her arms I had only a split second to think _gun_ before she fired.

Time slowed, not stopping like when the Ellimist seized control, but taking on that slow, surreal quality when you knew exactly what was going to happen and how, but couldn't do a thing to change it. When you were forced into the passenger seat to come along for the ride, and nothing you did made the least bit of difference.

I barreled into him, but I was too late. A flash of light, a small, neat hole in the center of Jake's chest. Blood. His eyes widened as he collapsed to the ground and I was too slow, damn it, too late.

Not even an owl can outrun a speeding bullet.

I was already demorping before I even hit the pavement. Feathers melting into skin, internal organs smooshing and rearranging to become human. My face elongated and my beak broke apart to form my nostrils and mouth, but I saved the eyes for last. I wanted to see who could do this to Jake, see the bitch that had just ripped away one of the most important people in my life.

Fully human in a matter of seconds, with the exception of my eyes, I whirled around and stared across the street at the young black woman who stood there, gun still smoking in her hands. As I watched she dropped the gun and it skittered to the floor. She smiled, a warm, friendly, let's-go-for-coffee smile that was all too familiar. She was short and her hair was braided back in cornrows. She wore overalls and tattered sneakers. Everything about her was familiar, every last detail, even down to the golden heart earrings Ronnie had given me that I'd lost last month. Everything about her was familiar, exact. She was startling.

She was me.

She blew me a kiss and with a small, mocking wave, disappeared completely. No flash of light, no puff of smoke. No morphing. She was there one moment, gone the next, leaving a bunch of people standing around us in awe. Hurriedly I changed my eyes back to their natural brown.

It was clever, ingenious even. She – though I had no idea who she was – had the eyewitnesses, the fingerprints, and the motive of the jealous, raging ex. As I knelt down over Jake's dying form in shock, all I could think were two things. That the man I had once loved, and still did in some way, was dying in front of me.

And that somebody had just committed the perfect murder, and the joke was on me.


	2. She Comes Undone

**CHAPTER 2: She Comes Undone**

    As Jake lay dying on the sidewalk, I tried to think of something comforting and supportive to say, but nothing was coming to mind. How do you tell someone on their deathbed that they're going to be okay when you know it's not true? How do you assure them that things will all work out when you haven't the slightest idea? How do you lie to someone you love when you know you'll never see them again? 

    I clenched his hand on the sidewalk as a larger and larger crowd gathered. "Stay back!" someone shouted. "She's dangerous!" 

    I could have morphed and left before the police arrived. No doubt they were going to arrest me, take me in for questioning. They had enough damning evidence to put me behind bars for life. I didn't know how the witnesses would explain me leaping across the street in the blink of an eye, or why I was comforting him now. The human mind was a funny, fragile thing, and they would piece together the bits and pieces that made sense, concoct their own stories. 

    I could morph and run far, far away. I could run and no one would stop me. But I knew that I couldn't, couldn't leave him here alone. 

    Tears were streaming freely down my face now, and my mind was racing. This was Jake, my Jake. We'd been together and apart, in lover's quarrels and fights to the death to save the world. We'd fought and survived, lived so many times when we should have died, won so many times when she should have lost. It wasn't fair that he could be snatched away from me like this, right under my nose. Not like this. Not now, just when I was hoping to make things right between us. 

    A cold hand gripped around my heart and twisted. I could not let Jake die thinking I hated him. No matter what we'd been through, we'd been through it together. I admired him, trusted him, respected him. Loved him. 

    "I love you," I whispered to him. The words were unbidden from my lips but true nonetheless. "Anything that happened between us, Jake, I swear it's in the past. I love you." My chest quivered as I tried not to lose every last shred of control I had left. As I tried not to break down. I tried, just this once, to be strong. 

    For him. 

    He looked at me with those chocolate brown eyes that once upon a time had been so young and trusting. They were now old and tired, but the look they held was the same. Those eyes said everything. All was forgiven between us, all was forgotten. He struggled to speak but gurgled instead. He rolled weakly onto his side and coughed up blood. If the bullet hadn't pierced the heart directly, it had at the least punctured a lung and scraped the heart. Sirens wailed in the distance but they would be too late. I wanted to help him, but I knew there was nothing I could do for him now. 

    As he regained his breath, he turned back to me and fought with every last ounce of energy that he had to speak. "Cassie," he wheezed, eyelids drooping. 

    "I'm here, Jake." Oh God. He couldn't die on me. I couldn't lose him. Couldn't. 

    "I love you, too. I never… stopped loving you." I couldn't take it any more. My shoulders heaved with grief as I sobbed, clenching one of his hands tightly in my own and bringing my other up to my face to block out the horrible image. The pain on his face… I didn't think I could take it, but Jake was the one who'd been shot. Jake was the one who was dying. If he could take that wound and die in front of me, brave, like the man he'd always been, then the least I could do was be here for him. 

    The least I could do was watch. It felt like somebody had to be there to witness and record the final chapter in the life of Jake Berenson, the Animorph leader. He was history, he was a legend, a savior. 

    He was dead. 

    His hand went slack in mine, his head fell back to the pavement, eyes wide and lifeless. Already they were beginning to glass over. 

    Two police officers approached from the sides, one pointing a gun at my temple, the other holding a pair of handcuffs. They were going to arrest me, to hold me responsible. But I didn't care, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. 

    He was dead. 

    "Hands on your head, lady!" I sat there for a moment, not thinking or breathing or blinking. "Now!" Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, my hands found their way to the top of my head and I laced my fingers together. 

    I could run. I could escape. I could morph. 

    No, I couldn't. They would find me. Someone, somewhere. 

    I could wake up now. 

    _"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."_ The cop's voice was far-away, the words not registering in my mind. 

    This wasn't real. Couldn't be. No God would be cruel enough to weave these twists of fate, to create this world we live in where people cheat and lie and steal and kill. Kill. What was it they had called me, back in the day? Killer with a conscience. As far as the rest of the world was concerned now, I was just a killer. 

    _"You have the right to be speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning."_

    It was a nightmare, every last bit of it. I would wake up tomorrow next to Ronnie and we'd still be together and Jake would be alive and I'd be able to find that goddamned pair of earrings. Funny, the things our minds think of in the midst of terrible tragedy. 

    _"If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."_

    I was numb. I'd be all over the news in minutes. The first news van was wheeling around the corner. Oh, God, what would my parents think? My mother would just die. Die, that was funny. I would have cried, and kept crying, but it wouldn't have done any good. There wasn't enough sorrow in my heart for Jake, and now for myself. There weren't enough tears in all the rivers in the world to mourn the passing of such a hero. 

    Jake Berenson was dead, a feat not even the most powerful of Yeerks had been able to accomplish. And all the rest of the world knew was that Cassandra Chase had killed him. 

    And that strange woman, whoever she was, still had my earrings. 

***     *     ***

    The cell was small, about four by eight, and the gate slammed shut with a steely clanking sound. Everything was exactly as I would have pictured it to be, had I ever actually imagined myself going to prison. The other inmates stared at me as they brought me past, wondering what such a tiny chick was doing in the hardcore block with the murders and psychopaths. But my own cell was in quarantine 

    I didn't bother to protest. To throw a tantrum and scream, 'I didn't kill him!' It wasn't a very convincing argument. Someone who looked exactly like me had killed Jake. Hell, maybe it was me. Maybe I was completely insane, doing things and committing crimes that I had no memory of. Like in Fight Club. God, I hated that movie. Way too violent. 

    My mind kept doing that. Grasping at straws, bouncing back and forth to things that seemed completely irrelevant. I was in shock, I knew. From far away I could see myself, observe my actions and behaviors and symptoms, and diagnose them. That's right, I thought, think of yourself as just another animal in just another zoo far away. This is all happening to someone else. It's not real. 

    It's not real. 

    There were five guards stationed outside of my cell. The police knew what I was, everyone did. The guards had been given orders to shoot me on sight if I tried to morph. There was no escape. They'd even arranged a special, private trial for me the next afternoon, to convict and sentence me as quickly as possible. They didn't want to keep a crazy Animorph pent up in a cell for too long, lest she go insane and start killing people. Rachel would have been flattered. But no, Rachel was dead, wasn't she? 

    Just like Jake was. 

    Just like I would be. 

    In ten seconds, everything had changed and I had been helpless to stop it. And now? My life was forfeit. Even if I walked away, I couldn't survive long. Not without Jake. Not with all the questions and what-if's running through my mind. What if I had been a little faster? What if we'd never broken up? What if I could have saved him? What if I had run? My thoughts circled over and over in my head, reverberating through my entire being. 

    What if? What if? What if? 

    As the shock began to wear off, I realized just how ruined my life was. I had no friends left. Whoever had killed Jake, really killed him, was out to screw me over good. Couldn't trust anyone now. 

    _Jake was dead.     Trust no one.     I was in jail.     They're all your enemy.     It was over.
_

    As the cruel realities bombarded me, one after the other, I began to cry all over again, for everything and everyone I had lost along the way. This was it. Really it. I'd been too slow and now Jake was dead and now my life was unraveling, coming undone right in front of me while I just sat here in a tiny little cell and watched. 

    This was really, truly happening. 

    Jesus, save me. 


	3. A Friend in Need

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_

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far for your kind words and encouragement. Life has been hectic but I have finally pumped out the most recent chapter. To Jinako -- as long as I can have the link, feel free to archive it. To everyone else -- I'd appreciate if y'all could keep me informed on how well I keep Cassie in character -- granted, her character is going to grow and change during this fic, but I'd like to keep it plausible. Thanks again, and here's Chapter 3.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: A Friend in Need**

    Somehow, at some point during that night, I actually managed to fall asleep. It was a restless sleep of course, everything you'd expect: blood and tears and screams and the thousand different scenarios in which I was just a split-second faster. And I saved Jake each time. I did, a thousand times. I'd saved him every time except for the one that counted, and I knew I would dream about that one time, that one missed opportunity, forever. 

    I knew I would save Jake, over and over, every night for the rest of my life. And it would never matter. 

    I woke up to a loud noise and a gorilla. Thought perhaps I was still dreaming, because when I'd visited jail on a field trip with my Criminal Justice class sophomore year, they didn't have gorillas. Of course, times had changed, but I was fairly certain the gorilla wasn't an inmate. 

    { Come on already, Cass! Get up! } The voice was slightly irritated, echoing in my head. As I tore myself from the jaws of sleep I realized that inmate gorillas didn't use thought-speak. 

    "Marco…?" I asked stupidly. It was impossible. It would have been too good to be true, except that even if he rescued me Jake was still dead and I was still a fugitive. But first things first. 

    The scene suddenly came into focus with startling clarity and I almost fell. I didn't remember standing, but was willing to chalk that up to post-traumatic insanity. I was being funny, I chided myself. Why? How could I make jokes at a time like this? 

    Easy. If I didn't try to laugh, I would cry and cry and never stop crying. 

    I wondered idly if this was how Marco had always felt. 

    He tapped one of the guards on the head with his forefinger the size of a bratwurst. Just a little love-tap, but a love-tap from a gorilla will knock you out cold. That made three unconscious – or worse – guards. I must have slept through the beginning of the fight. 

    Marco had his back to the remaining two security guards, one of which reached for his gun. There was a click as the safety went off. 

    "Marco!" I tried to leap off of the bed but was jerked back by the chains connected at my ankles. Crap. 

    He turned, but too slow, too slow. Oh God, he was going to get shot, too. As long as he kept the guards occupied I could morph and slip the chains, but the guard was drawing the gun up. Marco was going to die just like Jake had died and I was going to be too late to save him. Was that my curse in life? To watch every evil in the world in action and always be a hair too late to stop it? 

    "Marco!" 

    The picture zoomed forward in a blur, like a hand had jammed the fast-forward button. He whirled and slapped the gun out of the man's hand. It sailed across the room and clattered into the wall. { Uh uh, none of that. } Marco said. { Bad cop. No donut.} His fist the size of a ham connected with the guard's stomach with enough force to leave a dent in a truck. 

    Down. Out. 

    Slowly, as if I was underwater, the changes began. My nose and mouth began to melt together and protrude outward into a snout, my ears started to move up the my head. The very beginning of the wolf, an old morph but as familiar as the back of my hand. I focused the energy towards my lower body, willing my legs to change first. 

    With a loud grinding, the knees reversed direction and my feet shrank as they transformed into paws. Smaller, smaller, just enough. I slipped free of the restraints and reversed the morph. Marco could take care of the remaining guard, I wasn't going to fight. I was not going to be the cause of anybody else getting hurt or killed. I was officially out of that business since we'd saved the world in our last big hoorah. It was somebody else's turn. 

    As a human, I ran forward to the bars as the other guard was put out of commission. Whether that was before or after he went flying ten feet across the room and into the wall with a sickening thud, I wasn't sure. Too much violence, too much pain. The world was so full of pain. 

    { The cavalry's here, } he said, but his voice wasn't light and care-free as usual. { Miss me? } I just nodded, my throat tight with more tears that threatened to well up at any moment. He gestured at the bars in front of me. { You want to escape or should I? } 

    "I'm kind of tired," I said. Understatement. 

    { Say no more. } BAM! He ripped the padlock off and produced a set of keys from one of the guards. He unlocked the door and I practically threw myself out of the cell and into his big, hairy gorilla arms. 

    "You came for me," I said. "Why?" 

    { Of course I came for you, } he said, sounding a bit indignant. { You're my friend, Cass, and I know you and that annoyingly pure heart of gold. Anyone who believes that Cassie Chase could murder a human being obviously doesn't know Cassie Chase. } 

    "Everyone believes it," I said darkly. "Even my parents." Despite that, my heart fluttered for a second. There was someone, even if it was only one person in the world, that believed in me. One person in the world that knew I was innocent. 

    { Well, I didn't buy it for a second, } he said, and I had to smile. Marco may have been a pain, sometimes. He never stopped making jokes, and when it came to battles he was far more ruthless than I could ever be, but deep down he was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met. 

    "Really?" 

    { Really. Now, } he said, trying to be funny old Marco, to lighten the mood. God, I'd missed him. I'd never even known how much I would have missed Marco until now, with him standing in front of me. I was glad that if I was going to be on the run, at least I'd be with a friend. Marco truly was the only friend I had left in the world. 

    { Let's blow this joint. } 

***     *     ***

    I sent Marco back to my house to pack a small duffel bag full of things I might need. A few cans of food, bathroom appliances, some money. I waited across the street, lurking in the shadows. Nobody seemed to be awake, but we knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. We turned into animals, for crying out loud. 

    He came dashing out of the house less than ten minutes later, looking white as a sheet and breathing hard. He darted across the street, almost faster than my eyes could follow. 

    "Marco? Marco, what's wrong?" 

    "We're leaving," he announced, keeling over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

    "What is it?" I tried to ask, to get him to talk to me. 

    "Now!" was all he said. We turned and ran into the shadows. 

    At first light, we headed to the bus depot. In order to go unnoticed, Marco and I actually had to acquire each other and perform two separate _frolis maneuvers_. We wound up looking like disturbingly identical mirror images of what the other would look like if we were the opposite gender. Not to mention the fact that it was a serious invasion of privacy. 

    Morning finally came, and the two of us, passing as twins, paid for our fare at the bus depot. The ride out of San Francisco was an hour and forty minutes. That was the farthest they were willing to take us, the final stop in some small town called Sunnydale or something. We were pushing our two-hour limit about as far as we could. 

    He still wouldn't tell me what he'd seen in my house that had spooked him so much. 

    "Give it up, Ca – Carmen," he said, avoiding my real name. There were enough Cassie's in the world, but I wanted to go as unnoticed as possible. Everyone knew that the Cassie who'd killed Jake was a morpher. Or, at least, they thought they knew, but they had no idea. Hell, _I_ had no idea. Somebody out there wanted to screw me over royally. But who, and why? I'd made a lot of enemies in my time, not only as an Animorph but since I'd gotten into the fields of environment protection. 

    The list of people I'd pissed off was probably endless. I hadn't really bothered to sit down and ask myself these questions before, hadn't really had the time. Everything up until now had just been reaction. Now we had a plan. Granted, 'get the hell out of town' wasn't a particularly marvelous or complex plan, but it was a start. 

    Maybe it was just nerves, but I was fairly certain the young man sitting across from us was watching me. He was about my age, tall, lanky, and twitchy, and whenever I looked at him he averted his eyes quickly, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. 

    "I think that kid's watching me," I hissed to Marco. 

    "Maybe he's just checking you out. Did that occur to you?" 

    "Blind panic first, reality check later," I grumbled. "You're on the run with a wanted fugitive, _Mario_. A little paranoia could go a long way." If he didn't have enough, I'd be happy to share some of my own. I quieted down but kept a close eye on the kid for the rest of the ride. 

    After what seemed an eternity, we reached Sunnydale and exited the bus. 

    The kid followed. 

    "Mario," I said. "Do me a favor and carry my bag like the chivalrous twin brother you're pretending to be." He gave me a sideways look, like maybe I was acting a little strange. A bit too perky, perhaps. I probably was. It was all so ridiculous – me, killer-with-a-conscience Cassie, who cried every time she killed a Yeerk, was framed for the murder of the man I loved who just so happened to be one of the most famous men on the planet. I was on the run. From what? The police, jail, Jake's adoring fans. God, if they got a hold of me they'd tar and feather me in the streets. Me, an assassin. And my only friend in the world was Marco, and I still didn't understand why he was doing all this for me, risking his ass to save me. It was funny, really, and it took all the self-control I had left not to just collapse in a fit of giggles. 

    I may have been hysterical, but it beat the hell out of crying. 

    We hurried out into the street, and sure enough, Twitchy was keeping a safe distance behind so as not to be too obvious, but he was watching us. Following. I glanced farther back behind us, trying to look inconspicuous. A handful of tall men in dark suits and sunglasses were following the kid, so by the transitive property of equality, they were also following us. 

    Dammit. 

    Dammit. 

    _Dammit._

    My good humor had evaporated for the time being. Somehow, somebody had recognized us in our morphed forms. Maybe it was too obvious, maybe they were just really good guessers. We could pretend to play dumb and keep going, but it was useless. They'd already found us and we were too close to the two-hour limit to lead them on a wild goose chase. There weren't a whole lot of options. If we ran, they would follow, and possibly start a fight out here in public. Innocent bystanders could be hurt, and I couldn't risk that, even now, with the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

    "There's more of them. What are we going to –" I cut myself off in surprise. 

    Everything, everywhere, had stopped. 

    "Oh, shit," Marco said softly and with feeling. 

    I agreed. 

    YES, THAT SEEMS TO BE THE GENERAL SENTIMENT AMONG THE BEINGS OF THIS ORDER. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, reverberating throughout the very air and inside my body. Anyone who'd never heard the Ellimist speak before might think he was God. I knew better. 

    "You know," Marco mused, "I was about to say that we didn't have time for this, but I guess," he gestured around to the scenery with a sardonic grin, "that's not exactly true." 

    The Ellimist, a multidimensional and seemingly all-powerful being, was annoying. He had lent us a hand on more than one occasion, but ever since he and a being known as the Crayak had destroyed dozens of sentient species in all-out war, they laid down the law and played by a strict set of rules. They interfered in our daily affairs without actually 'interfering'. No, I don't get it either. The end result was the lot of us being jerked around like a bunch of puppets in one big galactic game of chess that we didn't understand. 

    "It's been a rough day," I informed the Ellimist. "Unless you have something particularly useful to tell me, I'm really not in the mood." 

    IN THAT CASE, he said, slowly appearing in front of us in the guise of an old man with pointed, swept-back ears, and long white hair, "I will make it quick." In this disguise he had a bluish glow to him, a sort of radiance of the night sky. 

    "First, I am truly sorry for what has happened. The entire dimension will mourn the passing of such a fine man and warrior." His forehead was creased and oddly enough, he looked tired. 

    I tried to think of something to say to that, but couldn't. "Thank you," I said instead. 

    "Secondly, you are both in even greater danger than you realize." 

    We started at him for a moment. "Like we needed him to tell us that," Marco grumbled. 

    "Please, let me speak." I think it was the first time I'd ever heard the Ellimist sound so serious, so despairing. Even his ground-shaking voice was lacking its usual vigor, and I was fairly certain that not all the signs of exhaustion he was portraying to us were intentional. "The Crayak will be here soon, and I must explain." 

    "Whoah," Marco said, holding up his hands. "Slow down. In fact, come to a screeching halt. Crayak is coming?" 

    "Cassie," the Ellimist said, turning to me and effectively ignoring Marco. "Listen to me very carefully: Crayak will present you with a variety of requests, offers, and demands. You must ignore all of them unless I explicitly encourage otherwise. Do you understand me? Do not. Say. Yes. He will tempt you and taunt you, but you must persevere. 

    "And Marco. There is a long, unpleasant road ahead for the two of you, and Cassie will need you there by her side. To the human world, the real Cassie is no longer a hero. You two will need each other in your journeys." He paused, tilted his head for a moment, then nodded. "And now, I present you with The Crayak." 

    Before either of us could even open our mouths to speak, the ground began to shake, softly and first but then gaining momentum until it was a deep, steady rumble. The sidewalk cracked beneath my feet and I jumped, yelping in surprise. Across the street from us, a large fissure tore through the cement, racing across the block and dividing it into two. Smaller buildings swayed and began to crumble as their support structures gave out. The people remained frozen in mid-stride or gesture like bendable dolls, steam lingering over coffee mugs, a ball suspended in mid-air between two children who'd just run away from their mommy. 

    From the scar in the earth, he came. Large turrets of metal erupted from the ground as his throne rose from the earth, harshly metallic and all spikes and ridges. The very earth itself quivered as both he and the enormous construction he sat upon loomed up to full height. It looked like someone had tried to build a royal throne out of dumpster-trash. Like a seagull with thumbs went crazy and made his throne for its thesis. 

    In the middle of all the rough edges and sharp points, he sat, gigantic. A large red eye, impossible to tell if he was organic or a machine, maybe some strange medley of the two. I'd met Crayak before, and none of those times had been pleasant encounters, but this time something was different about him. This time I wanted to piss my pants. 

    It was strange to see the two otherworldly beings, the Ellimist and the Crayak, the good and the evil, superimposed over a freeze-frame of southern California. I guess our lives were different than most people's. 

    _Now we may begin our discussions_, Crayak's voice boomed in my mind, almost a mixture of our morphed thought-speech and the Ellimist's annoyingly ubiquitous voice. 

    "Can I get another round of, 'oh, shit?'" Marco asked. 

    Again, I agreed. 


End file.
